


One Night in Hong Kong

by FrangipaniFlower



Series: Hong Kong [1]
Category: Homeland
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beginnings, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, Teen Romance, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7366756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hong Kong 1992: Frank Mathison meets a strange teenage boy and invites him for dinner with his daughters.</p><p>The backstory Dar gave us in 5.12 really messed me up and I had to do something about that. Quinn deserved better.</p><p>So...what if our two favourite characters had met long before 2.04? In Hong Kong?</p><p> </p><p>NEW: After finishing this fic, I wrote a sequel named 'After Hong Kong' (creative title, I know) and tied the two fics into one series</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I'm still not done with the backstory Dar gave us in 5.12. Whereas I use the timing of canon here not very accuratly, the description of all the locations is real. Google Kowloon and Chungkin Mansions for photos.
> 
> This story was inspired by Homemade Lemonade's wonderful Two of a Kind, but unlike her I'll just tell the story of that one night.
> 
> My great LJ friends and I had a discussion around Q's backstory and Dar's recruiting techniques here http://carrie-quinn.livejournal.com/128079.html

Hong Kong, August 1992

 

It had been a rough year. First Ellen had left him and the girls without a word, explanation or good-bye and in the aftermath Carrie had suffered through her first mania followed by a deep fall into depression. And he had learnt what was even worse as being bipolar: Passing the jackpot of gene lottery to your child, seeing your precious daughterloosing it, suffering through mania and ECT, being utterly hopeless and tired of life. Radiating, brilliant, smart Carrie, suddenly dulled, dead eyes, saying only one sentence: "I'm not worth it, just let me die."

But she'd bounced back. Lithium, mood-stabilizers and a regained will-power.

And he had felt she and Maggie had earned a reward. Not the usual summer at the lake but a rite de passage to mark the end of Maggie's teenager years and somehoe Carrie's as well. A trip to remember for a better reason as it being their first year as a family of three. Creating new memories, good ones hopefully.

Ellen would have called it stupid money-burning crazyness but Ellen was gone and he called it carpe diem. Embracing life. And alone Carrie's smile when he had told her had been worth every dollar spent.

He took them to Asia as he wanted a destination which offered them unique cultural experiences and an immersion into another culture. Bangkok, Phuket and on the way back a three day stop over in Hong Kong.

They had a great time. Visiting temples and markets in Bangkok, scuba diving and sailing around Phuket, they'd done a thai cooking class together, and now they were in Hong Kong. The girls did a guided citytour and he had allowed himself some time off his parental duties and taken a stroll through Kowloon. Now he was at Chungkin Mansions, a 17-stories and 5-blocks-coloss of guesthouses, markets, small shops, import-export-offices, restaurants and food stalls, gathering place for all ethnics one could possibly think of. Ever since he'd seen Wong Kar-wai's movie Chungkin Express he'd wished to set his own eyes on this fascinating labyrinth.

Nestled in the heart of the bustling, ultra-modern skyscrapers that defined the British colony's city center, Chungking Mansions was a barely concealed anomaly. Entering the mansion was like crossing the threshold into another world. Inside, it swarmed with people pulling, jostling, urging visitors to buy products including computers, watches, electronics to name just a few of the offerings. Inside, he was also met by a mishmash of languages ranging from Arabic to Malay to a huge number from the Indian subcontinent and Africa. Chungking Mansions was a veritable Babel in the heart of Hong Kong. Frank loved it. Each and every day 10.000 people were entering the complex and there was a saying how a service or good not available at Chungkin Mansions wasn't available anywhere else in the world - and he was willing to believe that.

He settled at a pink plastic table in the second floor and sat on a light blue plastic stool, wondering not for the first time how Asia could be home of the most serene and beautiful temples but completely lack taste when it came to food stall furniture. Plastic tables and chairs in pastel colors and flowered wax table clothes being kind of the unique set up for each and every food stall he'd seen over the last three weeks. But the duck pancakes and Sezchuan noodles he had picked up from two of the stalls, along with a cold bottle of beer, looked great.

So he didn't return to his musings about furniture and architecture but just digged his teeth into the first meat-filled pancake roll while observing the hustle and bustle around him. While he was indeed in a melting pot of ethnics, languages and smells, Mandarin drowning Indian, sizzling onions fighting over eyebiting chili and a hint of lemon, he noticed he was the only caucasian around. While strolling through the floors earlier he'd spotted some backpackers, and much to his amusement even an Irish pup, but here deep in the second block he was alone among people of diverse Asian and African ethnics. Of course there were rumours of the triads running business within the Chungkin Mansions, probably many businesses were just potemkin villages to hide shady affairs but as the white middle-aged teacher he was he'd never felt exposed or in danger during their trip, not even now.

But while having a sip of beer his eyes had caught another white. A teenager or maybe young man, probably around Maggie's age maybe. He couldn't really say as the boy kept himself in the dim-lit areas around the market but as he spotted him again a few minutes later when he had a better angle. He was tall, thin as a rail, but broad chest, ridicously pretty face with a dark brooding expression. As a teacher and a father Frank saw teenage hurt from a mile's distance and this boy made no difference. He was wearing dark pants and a blue button down shirt, an odd choice given the place they were in. But when he rounded the market for the third time Frank was pretty sure his interest was the paymaster's shop opposite of the food stalls. He always hesitated a brief moment when passing the entrance and had an air of anxiety. Funny how much easier it is to read facial expressions and moods of people of the same origin, Frank thought, whereas for the life of me I couldn't say what mood that chinese noodle girl's in right now.

At the next round the boy rubbed his hand over his face and through his thick dark hair after he had a quick glimpse through the paymaster's window. He had sharp chiselled cheekbones and unruly hair standing on ends.

After fifth round Frank made a decision, got up and bought another beer and a can of soda and stepped into the younger one's track.

"Hi. You look like you know much more about this place as I do. Soda? And I can ask you a question?"

Having a closer look now it wasn't really a boy anymore but a teenager, sixteen maybe seventeen, handsome as hell but with an air of desperation and grief. He had piercing blue eyes, scrutinizing Frank now.

"No thanks, Sir."

Polite, but determined.

"Whatever you have to figure with that paymaster can wait a sec, can't it? Took you quite some time already, rounding the food court five times, didn't it? Sit down."

He wasn't prepared for the shock and - was it fear? - darting over the younger one's face.

"Did they sent you? It's just been a day and they said I've a week. Why did those fuckers sent you right after me?"

"Nobody's sent me. What are you talking about? I'm just a crazy dad in midlife-crisis needing a break from his chatty teenage daughters, searching some distraction. Sit down."

"I don't do sex with men."

That came harsh and bold, but he saw the flicker in his eyes. God, that poor boy. What had brought him here?

"Me neither. What makes you think I would? My flowery shirt?"

"You said, you're searching distraction. Isn't it what makes middle-old men come to Asia? All kinds of cheap sex?" 

It was a weird conversation in even more weird surroundings but in Frank's book 'weird' was always a huge plus and he noticed how he started to take genuine interest in his young counterpart's story. Whereas most teenagers at this age usually tried to avoid eyecontact with adults - Carrie's piercing blue stare being the only exception he had ever met til today - this one's stare never left his face, as if he was searching and drinking in each kind of reaction he could get, trying to read every twitch and wrinkle. And that was in a way mind wracking annoying, Frank noticed with amusement, that kid had a way to make one want to break eyecontact first. Carrie was the same. That thought made him chuckle.

"What's so funny? As I said, no cheap buttfucking with me. No expensive one either. I mean, not at all. Nothing. Includes cock sucking."

At least he sat down and had a sip of the soda.

"No worries, son. Not my wheelhouse. You just reminded me of someone, that's why I had to chuckle. And no, I didn't come to Asia for cheap sex."

They had their drinks in silence and as Frank noticed his eyes flickering briefly over the food on the table he indicated the noodle girl to bring another bowl and pushed that one over the table. He was amazed by his opposite's ability to stand silence.

"I'm Frank."

No reaction.

"What's your name?"

"John."

"Doe. Of course."

Frank picked up a spoon from the box at the table which contained cutlery and cheap thin napkins, light pastel green, of course. The boy - John - inhaled the soup in no time and at the sight of that display Frank felt a pang of pity but all his instincts told him not to comment or show. But when John finished his soup he pushed the pancakes over the table.

"Try these. Like duck? Always found it overrated. But I really wanna try dim sum."

So he went around the food stalls, kind of expecting the boy to disappear. But he was still there when he came back with a stash of bamboo baskets holding the steaming hot dumplings. He was scanning his surroundings, wary and alert, under half closed eyelids. The plate with the pancakes was empty. God, that guy must be starving. His teenage girls being picky eaters, especially Maggie, who was afraid to fill out too much, Frank was not used to younger folks with such an appetite. So he laid out the steaming baskets on the table, added two cans of coke, and sat down on the low stool again.

"So as we are both not here for sex, how about we talk shop why we're here. I'll start. It's been a rough year and the girls and I needed a break and a fresh start."

"Rough, huh? Like in your mortage interest increased, your car needed new tires and your girls' needing extra tutorials as they're not straight fucking A's anymore, now as the hormones kick in?", was the bitter reply he got, quick, sharp and agitated.

"No, like in my wife bailed on me without a word of explanation, don't even know if she's still alive and my youngest having the first episode of manic depression, one bout in each direction, straightjacket, nut house, brains frying ECT. My special gift to her. Have it too. Rough like that, that was our year. And yours?"

Frank didn't know why he spoke about it to a complete stranger, it was the first time he ever spoke about it to anybody else than Maggie and her boyfriend Bill, a kind and gentle 20 year old dating Maggie for a bit longer as a year now. He suddenly realized how lonely he'd become over the last twelve months as single parent of a severly sick child. Gosh, dumping his shit in front of a teenager.

The said teenager, whose real name was Quinn Foley, suddenly showed a broad smile and Frank was flashed by that transformation. Being handsome anyway, he was glowing now, and again Frank was knocked over by thinking how much Carrie's face was the same, always a 120% of what she felt and thought and her smile the most radiant known to human mankind.

"So you're a loony? A nutjob? I like that. And your daughter too? That's tough. Poor girl." His voice suddenly sounded genuinly concerned and so did his eyes, changing from amused to earnest.

"Oh, she's a tough cookie. She'd kick your ass for naming her 'poor girl'."

"She sounds pretty cool."

"She is. But it's a bitch of a condition."

"Sorry what I said about your problems. That wasn't right."

Again, Frank was taken by surprise. Not many youngsters were willing to give in and offer an apology after a fight or after being caught doing wrong. But this one here, he had a strange vulnerable matureness.

"That's fine. You couldn't know. And I'd say your guess would probably apply to 99,9% of the Americans travelling Asia and rambling about having a rough year so no offence taken. And I even guess around half of them search what you accused me of earlier. Cheers."

They shared a companiable chuckle at this statement, two strangers in that odd setting, sharing a moment of recognition.

"And you? Had a rough year too?"

"How does it feel not to have a rough year?"

John's voice was gentle now, no tone of mockery or lament, a simple question which again knocked the wind out of Frank.

"You're here alone?"

"Hope so." Right, he'd feared to be followed earlier. Frank thought there was no need to raise the question where his parents were or if they knew what he was doing here. He probably didn't have any or they didn't care.

"A rough estimate: This building holds probably about 500 paymaster's offices, the city probably a high five-digit number. So, why that one?"

"Was it that obvious?" Again, genuine concern, and something else. Fear?

"Sorry, buddy, but yes, it was. Five rounds, always slowing down at that shop. Make your decision before going into the game. Watch baseball?"

"Yeah. Orioles."

"Whoa. You're talking to the biggest Orioles fan walking on this planet. With each pitch, the batter must decide whether to swing the bat at the ball in an attempt to hit it. Or not. The decision to swing must be made in less than a tenth of second. That's what you have to aim for. Whatever business brought you here."

"I should probably go back to it anyway." He pushed back his wobbly chair and was about to get up.

"Nah. Take a break from whatever you were planning. You and I, we stand out like sore thumbs here. Even the oblivious american tourist and highschool teacher made you. Come back another day with a clear decision whether to pitch and then go for it. In one attempt. Before anyone can wonder what you are up too. And now finish your coke, we gotta go."

"Where?"

"Ever tried indian food? I promised the girls indian food and a cruise on State Ferry for tonight. Wanna join? They're a bit bored by my dinner conversation after travelling for three weeks with their old man."

John contemplated his suggestion for a moment, eyes dark. That Mr Adal had said not to fraternize with locals, but he hadn't mentioned strangely amusing american middle class tourists. And he never had had dinner with a real family. Well, the mum was missing, but with such a great dad that was nothing but a minor detail. And as much as he really wanted to get over his task with that paymaster, even with her being female he wasn't looking forward to it, that Frank was probably right, if he'd approach her today chances were that he already had raised suspicion by lingering around here for too long. And they had said he had a week. So no need to rush things and make stupid mistakes. And he was really curious to meet that daughter.

So, yeah, why not. One has to appreciate whatever life throws at you, he'd learned that the hard way.

"Yeah, why not? And...thank you, sir."

"Frank. It's Frank. And the girls are Maggie and Carrie."


	2. Chapter 2

They walked out of the food court and Frank was about to head towards the left where he thought the staircase towards the exit was when Quinn indicated him with a nod to follow him to the right.

Frank followed him through passageways and back staircases amazed by the swift and quick movements of the young man who apparently knew exactly where he was heading. The Chungking Mansions probably had a roller coaster history of security and fire safety. With the tight corridors, narrow escape routes which didn't deserve the name and jam packed with people, a fire would surely cause high numbers of fatalities and a mass panic.

Just like in movies, before the dark force hits, Frank thought not without amusement, driblets of water fell from the ceiling, the piping system looked like it could burst at any moment, and he'd seen better electrical systems, this here looked like it could ignite into flames at any second.

The air was humid and sticky and that didn't get any better when they finally stepped out in the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong's late afternoon traffic.

Once outside again, Frank was surprised to see them entering a park whereas he had arrived at Chungkin mansion via Nathan Road, the main axis through the district of Tsim Sha Tsui. With calm confidence Quinn turned and let them to the south-eastern end of the park where they stepped into Salisbury Road.

"You live here?"

"No."

"Been here before?"

"No. Arrived yesterday."

"How come you know your way around so well then?"

Again that stare with a flicker of emotion.

"Always got to have an extraction plan. I like to plan my adventures that way. Helps a lot when things go down the drain."

They took the ferry to Hong Kong Island's Wan Chai Pier, where their hotel was located on Lockhart Road, just a few blocks away from the waterline and pier.

Quinn offered to wait in the lobby of the small but neat hotel before Frank even had thought about it.

His daughters were upstairs in their room, he heard their chatter through the closed door and gently knocked. Entering the room he was greeted by the usual array rooms inhabited by his teenage daughters had. Carrie was a neat freak, her half of the room was always perfectly neat and tidy organized, all her clothes arranged by colours on hangers. Maggie liked clutter and getting dressed twenty times before settling for an outfit. Today they obviously both had been shopping and wore new dresses and his heart filled with paternal proud looking at them. Maggie wore a flowery summer dress, hippie-like, much to his joy as she usually tend to choose plain and simple clothes and dark colours, Carrie a plain dark blue shirt dress with golden sandals, hair in a ponytail. She'd been awfully thin and pale all year long but over the holiday she'd finally filled out a bit again although she still was very slim and slender. And she'd gained a nice and healthy bronze sun tan which looked gorgeous with her light hair.

They immediatly started telling him about their day, where they'd been, what they'd seen and he let the wave of voices and exitement wash over him. This trip had been a great idea, he complimented himself. None of them had been this happy within the months before and he doubted that their usual summer vacation at the cabin would've led to the same outcome.

Whereas Maggie told him about the skyline view they'd had from mountain Tai Ping Shan and the peak tram, Carrie was mesmerized by the street markets and chinese culture. They had visited two temples and a Buddha statue as well and Carrie couldn't stop talking about the different religious symbols and sanctuaries being in such close and peaceful neighborhood as they'd passed a large mosque in Kowloon as well.

"Dad, you have to see that. It's not just a room somewhere. It's the most beautiful building, alone the minarets are 11 metres high and the building can accomodate 3.500 people."

Frank told them they'd have a dinner guest when they walked over to the elevator. The girls giggled and changed knowing glances.

"What?"

"Are we too boring?"

He had to chuckle too.

"No, of course not, although that John is quite entertaining. A bit dark broading though", he turned serious, "I think he's been through some shit himself or maybe still's in it, so I thought a nice evening with some lovely people might do him good."

They entered the small lobby while they spoke where Quinn had gotten up from a comfy chair at the sound of the voices.

There was a moment of awkward silence until Frank introduced his daughters to his new found friend.

_God, that younger girl is a knock out. And she has no idea. I like it how she holds my glance, she won't look away first. She's a tough cookie, I bet that's true._

_Huh, he's cute. But his eyes are so sad. Even now when he smiles. But it's a nice smile. He even has dimples. And he doesn't break eye contact like most people do._

The receptionist had suggested them an indian restaurant in Kowloon, not far from Kowloon park. It was early evening but nightfall came early in these latitudes so the sun set when they were embarking another vessel of Star Ferry. Quinn hadn't talked much during the short stroll, just listened to Frank and his daughters chatting about their days, well aware of Carrie glancing at him every now and then. The next time she looked he caught her glance and got a tiny smile. He smiled back, feeling an odd joy.

They went to the upper deck, the ocean breeze offering a nice refreshment during the ten minutes ride across Victoria harbour and watched other vessels and the skyline in their back, slightly blurry due to warm evening mist.

Carrie sat next to him and tried to make conversation although she felt strangely self-conscious with that stranger who was probably of her age, one or two years older maybe.

"Like indian food?"

"Never tried."

"Uhm...my dad loves it. And he says it'll taste so different here in Asia. Although we're not in India."

"Yeah, probably."

_God, maybe I should at least try to make a conversation. It's just...social niceties are not really my homebase._

"Your dad seems very nice."

That brought him a side glance and a radiant smile.

_Wow. Can I get another one of those?_

Frank saved him by pointing out several buildings from the skyline so they didn't continue talking. Soon enough they'd reached the pier and were about to enter Kowloon's evening madness. The ferry's exit was about 10 inches away from the pier so Frank took Maggie's hand and helped her to disembark. Quinn didn't think, he just jumped and offered Carrie his hand. Hers was cool and soft and she smiled a tiny smile. Of course he let go of her as soon as she was on solid ground with her small feet in her cute golden sandals.

Quinn led them to Nathan road, assuming they'd want to see the nightly illuminations of the billboard displays as well as the crowds gathering on the pavement around the food stalls.

"Have you been here before?", Carrie asked, curious to learn a bit more about there strange companion.

"No. But memorized the map."

"Sounds fun."

Frank peeked at each and every one's food display until Maggie gently scolded him, he'd never get his indian dinner as long as he kept stopping every few steps. Quinn heard a soft giggle and glanced at Carrie who roled her eyes meaningfully and smiled that tiny knowing smile again. And he couldn't help it, he smiled back.

The girls were in complete awe about the colourful nightly setting of Nathan Road and even Quinn had to admit that the large neon-lights and flashing billboards were quite a sight. They made their way around market stalls, tables and stools, along shops and restaurants. The road was congested with buses, colourful taxis and cars of all kinds and the air was still hot and humid. The pavement was a busy beehouse of merchants, tourists and locals strollung around for dinner and employees of the nearby shops walking home.

 

When they reached the indian place Frank immediatly engaged with on of the service girls in a chat about which dishes to choose and Quinn caught Maggie having a worried glance towards her father.

"Hey. Your dad's a great guy. He'll be fine. Just a bit excited."

He leaned back and had a sip of soda. Maggie exhaled and he saw her relaxing a bit.

Soon their dinner arrived, Frank had ordered for everybody, heaps of food and had arranged the dishes and bowls in the middle of the table so everybody could pick and try everything.

"Family style. That's how they do it in Asia. Much nicer as we over-individulized Americans."

Quinn felt strange. A family dinner. With actually very nice people. He sat next to Frank, opposite of Maggie and Carrie, and for a while all he did was eating and listening and enjoying.

Carrie had opened the dinner conversation with mentioning that Nathan Road was named after the only jewish governour Hong Kong had ever had and from that the conversation had taken turns to religion and religious freedom in former colonies, to differences in cultures, to literature, apparently there was a drama named Nathan the Wise which Frank praised as a fervant plea for religios tolerance, and of course discussing the food. Quinn was amazed how Frank adressed his daughters as if they were equal to him, like friends and how he listened to their opinions even if he was not convinced, how he was willing to agree when they had good points and how he laughed when they outsmarted him or knew something he didn't know. And the girls seemed to be fucking clever.

"I wonder how hard it is to learn Mandarin", Frank jumped to the next topic.

"Probably hard, Dad, you don't even have the attention spam to finish the Newspaper, let alone a novel."

"That's why I read short stories", Frank quipped and they all had to laugh.

"But wouldn't it be great to be able to just blend in and talk to the people in their language?"

"Mandarin wouldn't bring you that far. Quite the opposite. It's Cantonese here."

Frank sighed theatrically. "Why doesn't it surprise me that out of all people I chose the same smarty pants as may daughters are? So you know about languages here?", he turned to Quinn and raised his eyebrows with a smile.

Quinn hesitated but then thought there was no harm in telling that. "A bit. Here and in Macau and Guandongh it is Cantonese. Mandarin is mainland China. Although most emigrated Chinese people speak Cantonese as they are often from Guandongh. Both are dialects and both are tonal languages, like Thai too, where one word has many meanings depending on the pronunciation and intonation. Cantonese has nine tones, whereas Mandarin has just five and is therefore easier to learn. Cracking the tones is the hardest part of learning Chinese. Mainland China increasingly uses simplified signs that rely on simpler brushstrokes and a smaller number of symbols. Hong Kong continues to use traditional Chinese that has more complex brushstrokes."

He looked back to his plate and concentrated on his food, mildly embarrassed by his long speech.

"When did you start to learn Mandarin? And do you know Cantonese as well?" That was Carrie's voice and he looked up again. How had she made that conclusion?

"A few years ago."

"In school? They don't offer that at our school. Is it very difficult?"

He wasn't going to tell her that he mostly didn't go to school and how he just to spend long hours, days and weeks in the library, especially in winter when there was not much to do outside and he didn't want to be in the foster home and how listening to those self learning language CD made him not to think about other stuff so he settled for a shoulder shrug.

But apparently she was having none of it.

"C'mon. I learn Arabic. Mandarin isn't more weird than that. At least nobody can scoff at you about wanting to be an emir's fourth wife." Her tone was light but her eyes were sad.

"I don't learn it at school. I...have CDs."

"Cool. See, Maggie, I'm not the only weirdo learning a strange language which has huge importance in other parts of the world."

"I never said you are a weirdo."

"But you thought it, for sure. So, back to you. Is it very difficult? When did you start?"

"About two years ago."

"Only Mandarine or Cantonese too?"

"I started with Mandarin. I did a bit Cantonese the last weeks though."

"Can you write Mandarin too?"

"Some of it."

"Can you write my name?" She fished a pen from her purse and handed it to him with a napkin.

"Mandarin has no R, so it would be the two syllables Kaî-lí. See."

 

She took the napkin and smiled while she looked at it and put in her purse.

"I made some progress in talking and reading Arabic but the writing is difficult. But I'll take a leaf out of your book and will try harder now."

And with that she was back to her plate and reloaded it with more rice, dal and another samosa.

"I am glad this trip finally convinced that life beyond olives and feta is possible", Frank teased his younger daughter, then turning to Quinn. "John, Carrie used to be quite a picky eater but now after.."

"Dad. You are embarrassing."

"That's what they always say. But..."

"I like olives and feta too." That was a lie but he wanted her to feel comfortable.

"Anyway, that food is a taste explosion. I need to learn more about the spices." And with that Frank weasled away, heading towards the kitchen, followed by Maggie.

Carrie sighed and went on finishing her plate.

"She always does that. Since our mother...left. But dad lets her. But really, what can go wrong when he's asking about some spices."

He wasn't unhappy about Maggie having left their table too. It was nice to be alone with her. But talking about her mum wasn't something he felt comfortable with.

"Do you often do stuff with your dad? Like travelling or, dunno, talking about so many topics?"

"We always discuss and talk and fight. He always says 'Use your words, they are your strongest weapon'. Where are your parents?"

He hadn't really expected to be able to avoid that topic all evening and had even made up a short back story about staying with an uncle during the summer and meeting his parents, who had fewer vacation days as his school was closed, in a few weeks. But now he found himself not wanting to lie to her. Which was strange, given the fact he'd never see her again after tonight.

"I don't live with them anymore. They...weren't cut out to be parents." He hold her gaze, waiting for pity or even something worse to veil her gaze, he had seen it many times before after mentioning his family background, as if it had been his fault. But she just kept looking at him, studying his face.

"My mum left too."

Before he could come up with an answer Frank and Maggie were back, Frank with several tiny paper envelopes. The cook had given him samples of many of his spices. They left soon afterwards and whereas Quinn originally had planned to say goodbye and disappear towards his cheap room at Chungkin Mansions he decided now that he'd join them for the boat trip back too. Carrie tried to lure her father into staying a bit longer in Kowloon and to walk around in some of the side alleys but Frank denied with mentioning their early flight on the next morning.

And that was when an idea began to form at the back of Quinn's head.

He had to wait until they disembarked at Wan Chai. Frank and Maggie were the first ones to step down the small staircase from the upper deck and he blocked Carrie's way for a few seconds. Then he stepped aside as if wanting to give way for her and tipped her shoulder when she stepped next to him.

"Hey. I...I can take you for a night walk back to Kowloon if you want too. Meet me at your hotel's backdoor in an hour. If you want to."

She studied him and then he knew he'd won when she smiled a bright smile.

"Sure. I like some conspirancy."

He couldn't know how fast her heart was beating. But for the first time since years he actually found himself looking forward to something. For a second he felt bad about going around Frank's back. But he'd bring her back safe and Frank would never know. When they stepped down from the ferry he took her hand again and held it a second longer than necessary.

Soon they said their good-byes and Quinn was surprised by the brief hug Frank gave him while saying "Remember what I told you about baseball, will you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It happened again...it started as a three chapter-draft and now it's gonna be longer.

She felt a rush of excitement while she was fake-preparing for bed and packing her suitcase, making sure it was all done in case she wouldn't have enough time in the morning.

"He was strange, wasn't he?"

"Uhm?"

"That John."

"I liked him. He was nice."

"You just think so because he's learning a strange language as well."

_Well, think what you wanna think. I liked him because it felt like he really, I don't know, saw me._

She had to wait a bit more as an hour until she was sure Maggie was asleep and it was safe to get up again and slip into jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers and sneak out of the room.

He was still there, waiting for her. Of course he'd been afraid she wouldn't come. _Why should she?_ But it was not like he was expected anywhere else tonight and so he could wait a few minutes longer. And there she was. Jeans and blue shirt now, no ponytail and a very shy smile. It hit him just then that girls like her probably didn't sneak out at night and didn't lie to their nice dads and sisters.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Thanks for waiting. Had to wait for my sister being asleep."

"Still feel okay with that? If not..." He really hoped she still was okay with that because tomorrow she'd be gone.

"Yeah...not really...but I left a note on my pillow in case my sister wakes up. And I need to be back in time."

"Sure."

He blocked the door's lock with a folded napkin.

They went back towards the pier and he suddenly felt very self-concious. What was there a guy like him could talk about with a girl like her? But he had to say something, after he'd lured her back out.

"Will your dad be angry if her finds out?"

"He certainly will. I guess all parents would."

There it was again. She probably was right. Just that his parents gave a shit. They hadn't visited him since, he didn't even know, was it three years? And before that it had been infrequently at best times. But probably parents should be angry when a teenager sneaked out at night.

"But my dad's not like other dads. He'd be angry, yes. But he'd understand too. Probably he did the same thing when he was younger. He still does crazy road trips from time to time. Or gets obsessed by certain things. Like the indian spices tonight. That's part of..." Her voice broke off.

"He told me about his...condition." He was proud how he'd managed to avoid the word 'illness'.

"I have it too."

"He said so."

They had reached the pier and this time she jumped over the gap to embark the ferry - sadly.

After they'd settled again on the upper deck he wonderd if he could raise that topic again. But he really wanted to know.

"Was it very bad? In hospital?"

"In the beginning, yes. I was hoping for my mom to come and visit me. But she didn't. But my dad came. And my sister. In the beginning they weren't allow to see me. That was bad. And the first ECT was scary."

"Thought so." Well, he knew how it felt with parents not showing up at visiting hours. He was surprised that for the first time in years he felt sad about it, he really had thought he was beyond that. They never came, right? They had stopped to come to his hearings too. Police always called the foster home and social welfare now, finally they'd learnt that there was nobody else to come or care.

"But you know what's worse? How everybody thinks now it's always this. When I'm just having a bad day or don't feel like all easy peasy lemon squeezy they all think I am about to go off the rails again. But it's not like that. I get medicine now and as long as I take these I'm fine."

"Yeah, you are." And something in his smile and voice made her really feel good. She'd never spoken with anybody except her doctor and her father about her condition, not even with her sister, although Maggie kept insisting. And once with Danny. Which had been a huge mistake. But suddenly it was okay.

"What about you? Why are you here?"

And he surprised himself by wanting to tell her. But he didn't know how. And they had to get off anyway.

"I tell you later, okay? Let's go for a walk first. You said you wanted to see more of Hong Kong."

This time they took a parallel road to Nathan Road and then made their way up Shanghai Street, a calmer setting with a lot of tea houses and shops with all kind of kitchen ware, china and cutlery and the inevitable food stalls. Carrie drank everything in, that truly was much more exciting as a vacation at the cabin or even a Phuket beach. And Quinn found himself enjoying that nightly walk, it was not that he'd been to many places or cities before and never in Asia. And it was fun to make guesses with her what those particular kitchen items could be used for, what the cantonese symbols could mean and to try the traditional milk tea. And she was fun. Not in a goofy way, but in a good way, sassy and smart and ironic. It was easy to be with her.

When they made a turn into Nathan Road again they found it even more crowded than two hours earlier. Being tall meant he could overlook the whole scenery which gave him some orientation but Carrie was much smaller. So he told himself it would just be natural and the right thing to make sure she wouldn't get lost and took her hand. She freezed for just a second but didn't pull it away. It was really crowded and it would be a good thing not to get lost, she thought. And it felt good. Exciting.

They walked all the way down to Kowloon park again and he kept her hand in his even when it got a bit less crowded - and felt better as he had in ages. He'd been with a few girls from the different foster homes over the last years and it was always good not to be alone for a few hours but that never felt so real or important - and it was never a good idea to get attached - and this here wasn't real too, he'd never see her again, but somehow it made it easier to be another guy, a better person, someone who took a girl for a walk and took care of her and not just to a laundry room for making out. And her hand felt very real.

He looked down at her right when she turned her head to look up at him and couldn't help it but had to smile. So did she.

_God, that was really different than going to the mall with Danny Hedges from down the road._

His hand felt strangely good, so she just kept her hand there and hoped he wouldn't let go. It was still a bit crowded, wasn't it?

She showed him the mosque, pointing out its architectural beauty and he had to admit it was indeed a spectacular sight.

"Why do you learn Arabic?"

"I think it's a beautiful language. Even the writing is beautiful. And...", she hesitated, this she hadn't even told her Dad, "it helps me to calm my mind, to concentrate. I can often stop the overdrive by concentrating on declinations or translating really difficult sentences."

He thought for a moment. It made sense.

"I chose Mandarin because I don't have to think about anything else when sitting in the library and listening to these or painting the signs."

It took them about another hour from Kowloon park back to the waterline and he never let go of her hand. They didn't talk much. It was crowded and loud and so he told himself they were busy with looking. And she told herself it was too loud to talk anyway.

Back on the ferry it was neither loud nor crowded. But he still kept that small hand in his after he'd helped her to make the large step onboard. They stayed downstairs this time, at the ferry's open stern, looking over the dark bay.

He thought about his strange luck, how his hesitating today had made Frank talk to him and how he had the best of all evenings now.

He thought he'd just walk her back to her hotel and say goodbye but when they'd left the pier, she stopped.

"You said, you'd tell me why you're here."

"Doesn't matter."

"I'd still like to know."

She pulled him over to a set of stairs connecting the promenade with the nearbye path to a public park and sat down, and sadly let go of his hand. But well, what he was going to tell wasn't exactly going to make her like him and why should she anyway and she'd leave in a few hours. And the thing was, he really wanted to talk about it with someone.

"My name's not John." That was maybe a good way to start.

"What's your name? And why did you give wrong name?"

"It's Quinn. Quinn Foley."

"Irish. Means wise pirate."

Now he'd lost her. "What are you talking about?"

"Your name. That's what it means."

"How d'you know?" His astonishment was genuine.

"When I was in hospital and my mind was spinning too fast my therapist gave me all kinds of boring stuff to memorize, so my brains would be focused and busy. Irish name charts among it. Found those more interesting as phone books."

He contemplated her answer for a while. But she'd have reasons when she was trying to make fun of her condition which he kind of understood. So he let it go.

"You asked why I gave a wrong name. If I tell you something, could you keep a secret?"

She turned her head and looked at him thoughtfully. She was beautiful, he thought, really beautiful. Not his league.

"Sure."

"It might sound crazy."

"I'm used to that."

"I don't live with my parents. I never really did. I was with my grandma til she died. And then about a year with my parents. They gave me away when I was, dunno, nine. That's too old for adoptions. Especially for boys. I live in a foster home."

She didn't say anything, just looked at him, calm and quiet. And it happened then, that he thought she really might not judge.

"Actually in the fifth foster home by now."

"Why did you..uhm, move?"

He smiled a small sad smile and she wished she'd still have his hand. What would he think if she'd take his hand now?

"It's not me deciding that. Let's just say, I have a tendency to bring myself into mess, bad mess, and so sometimes they place me elsewhere."

"What kind of mess?"

He usually never cared but telling her felt suddenly harder as anything before. Maybe the rich uncle-story would indeed have been better.

"Car theft, speeding, shop-lifting, that kind of things. But I always gave the cars back."

"Why did you take them then in the first place?"

"To drive around."

"Alone?" He was astonished how that was the question she asked about the things he just had told her.

"Yeah, mostly. I...I'm not good in connecting with other people mostly." He hoped the second qualifier might convey how she was an exception and he thought he saw a tiny smile.

"Me neither. Did you never get problems, I mean even when you just borrow the cars it's not the right thing to do."

"A lot of problems. I'll get to that. There's one more thing: For a few years I didn't go to school frequently."

And still could kick my younger self for that.

"So you had more time to learn Mandarin on your own..."

"Yeah, like that. The thing is, last time they got me was one time too much and I thought I'd be in serious trouble."

"How serious?"

"Juvenile Court. And then, dunno, correctional facilty. Maybe JDC." He didn't look at her. Because telling her made him feel like the shit he was.

But she surprised him. Suddenly he felt a small hand squeezing his hand which lay on his knee. Very brief. But real.

"I'm too old to go back to school. They don't take me anymore. Although I'd like to go back to school now. I'd like to go back in time and do it differently."

"But there's always a choice."

_Yeah, a choice between a rock and a hard place._

"Yeah, I got a choice. That brought me here. He said he could stop prosecution and make my file clean."

"C'mon, nobody can do that."

"Apparently he can. He, the man who saw me at the police station last time, got me out of custody and promised me I can visit a good school, a boarding school. Nobody would know I'm just a foster child who fu..., sorry, messed it up. They'll pay for it. For the school and later for college. And I would leave the foster home."

She studied him and saw how his eyes which had looked warm and soft all evening were hard now, and she didn't like that. She was aware that her own childhood probably had been very different from his and as much as she hated school since that incident she loved learning.

"And who would do such a thing? I mean we're talking about police reports and stuff, don't we?"

"The CIA."

"Of course. The spy who came in from the cold."

"I know how it sounds. But it's true."

"Okay. What do you have to do then?"

He sighed, fearing what was to come now. But it had all happened so fast and he had kind of convinced himself how it was no big deal, a one time thing and in return everything else would be much better then. And today during his attempt to approach that office he had noticed that it wasn't that easy. It didn't mean nothing. So he really needed someone to talk about it.

But he didn't wanna mess it up for her. She was so different than the other girls he'd met.

"How old are you, Carrie?"

"Don't give me that speech. Get it from my sister and her boyfriend every week. You're too young for that movie, too young for coffee, to young for..."

"Just answer. I won't judge", he interrupted her, amazed by how quickly she could talk herself in rage.

"Fine. Fifteen." She looked at him, kind of provokative, he thought.

"I'm seventeen", he offered, hoping he might convey that he didn't find her too young.

"Did you ever...went on a date, Carrie?"

_Except tonight with me? Sorry to ask. And somehow I hope the answer's no. Because that's the best date I ever had, already now. Even if you get up now and leave, it's the best date I ever had._

"Quinn", her tone was, he wasn't sure, but a bit indignant. But he so saw the faint pink colour rising in her cheeks. "What are we? Like girlfriends?"

"Fu..., sorry, no, I mean shit, sorry, no. I..." Now it was his time to feel embarrassed. And he really should pay attention to his language with her.

"Once. With Danny Hedges. He lives on the same street and is in my school."

"And?"

"We went to the mall and saw a movie. James Bond."

"Which is for sixteen and older."

"I faked my ID. C'mon, as if you'd care, don't look at me like that."

"Did you like it?"

"The movie?"

"No. Going to the movie with that Danny."

"Why do you wanna know?"

_Because I wanna know what you know._

"Did he kiss you?"

"No!"

Now she was really incredulous.

"Did you want him to kiss you?"

"I'm not asking who you are kissing."

"I'd tell you if you wanna know. Although it's been a while." That was a lie but a good one, he thought. Seeing himself through her eyes he wanted to be...different.

"Of course we didn't. Although he wanted. But it was our first date. And he only asked me because all the other girls make fun of him."

"And you don't?"

"No, of course not. It's not his fault that his dad is left and he and his mum had to sell the house and move to the trailer park. And I know him forever. We used to play soccer together when we were kids. So when he asked I had to say yes. And it was just a movie. Not a real date. Not with Danny. And I had no one else to go with anyway."

"And then? Did you go on a second date?" He really wanted to know. Of course he knew how there were rules for dating, and that's why he and the other foster kids just hung out together and not with kids, especially no girls, who were normal. Because somehow they never got the rules right.

She turned away, biting her lip.

"A few days later, things got really bad. For me. I...my dad had to bring me to a clinic. I was there quite a long time. We agreed to not to tell at school what it was. Just my teacher knew. When I was back home, I was to stay out of school another few days to see how my meds work when I'm back home. If it's enough. Danny came to see me then."

"And?"

"I told him. I wanted to talk to someone. And we were friends since we were four."

He had an idea where this was heading to but just waited. Her voice was very low.

"He said it was okay. But I could see it in his eyes. It was not okay. It really put him off."

"What did he say?"

"That day? Nothing. He was polite. But he told everybody at school the next day. So everybody knew when I came back. So I'm 'Crazy Carrie' now.'

She didn't know why she told him. She hadn't even told her dad or Maggie. But with him it felt okay. More than just okay. And it was good to finally talk about it.

Quinn felt hot anger rising in his chest. Somebody should beat the living shit out of that asshole, and he'd be happy to do so.

"What a jerk. I hope you slapped him right in his face."

"No. I didn't. I try...well, I just hope they forget if there's no more rumour about it."

"You know that he just did that because he wanted to make friends? And probably because you didn't kiss him?"

"Yeah. But you know there's a book I like. The Cider House Rules. It's about...an orphanage. Someone says there that it's not right to hurt or deceive someone who's already been hurt and deceived", _oh no, she's not gonna cry, please not_ , "and I guess that's why it still wasn't fair. Even if I get that he only did it because he wanted to be part of something. It was just not fair."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, there will be more, hopefully over the weekend. Kudos for everybody who takes the time to read and maybe comment.
> 
> For the possible scene between Dar and young Quinn meeting at a police station - there is a great fic written by Crux01, named Father Figure, which digs deep into that scene and the D/Q relationship. The police station scene is kind of my headcanon here.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No 1 of four possible endings - the sadest one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point I wrote four possible endings that night in Hong Kong could have. Each one works on its own. I sorted them from sad to happy/hopeful and would be glad if you wanna read them all.
> 
> I hadn't planned this. But our LJ discussion about Q's backstory made me do it. Peter Quinn deserved better.

_No, it wasn't fair. Absolutely not._

_But life isn't fair, Carrie. I stopped thinking about that._

And he made a decision. Whatever had brought him here - that was is his own shit. And he would rather be damned than dumping it in front of that wonderful girl. She was beautiful, innocent and perfect. And he just hoped her dad would manage to protect her for long enough. Until she could do it herself. Which would take a few more years. But she'd get there, that he was sure of.

"You were going to talk about that man."

"Yeah. It was quite strange. He said he had a parcel he needed to be delivered through a messenger who speaks Chinese. My mandarin's pretty good, cantonese fine enough. He read that in my file."

"And you never saw him before? And he'll gave you all those promises for delivering a parcel?"

"Who knows what's in it? I certainly won't look. I have to pick it up from that paymaster's office, will get an adress, will bring it there, and done deal. And even if all the other promises were false - it's not that I had anything to loose. And I saw Hong Kong before getting grounded. And if they were true and he really can make that happen - even better. And now I really should walk you back to your hotel before your sister notices you're missing."

He took her hand, got up and pulled her in a standing position. And of course he had briefly thought about it before but hadn't planned it but suddenly he just had to. So he stepped one step further down, she was really small, he still had to bend down, and put his right hand on the back of her nape. He knew she knew when she raised her head and looked up to him, and her eyes were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, that brief moment before his lips touched hers. He was gentle and soft, not wanting to scare her, and his left hand searched for her hand to squeeze and hold it. She stayed with him until he broke the touch of their lips.

"Feels good?"

She nodded, so he bent down and did it again, a bit bit more pressure this time with slightly opened lips.

_See, Carrie, you don't have to go to some suburban malls with some jerk from your street to get your first kiss, you deserve much better._

'Let's go back now. It's really late.'

He kept her hand in his. It felt right.

It was just a few minutes to the hotel where he walked her to the back door. The napkin was still there.

'Good luck in delivering that parcel. Still a strange story.'

He smiled, trying to hide his thoughts. She still thought that he had very sad eyes. Beautiful, but sad.

'Yeah, it is. Good night, Carrie. And...thank you.'

He bent down and kissed her cheek.

'Good night.' She smiled, turned around and left.

She'd been so excited and washed away, she only realized a few hours later that he hadn't asked for her phone number. He had been tempted, yes. But she was out of his league, and he had made a choice.

 

 

Looking back afterwards the next days were like a blurry haze, Hong Kong humid morning mist, but he remembered how he often thought how it might be to be the boy who lived on her street and ask her out. How she'd smile and hopefully might say yes and how he'd take her hand in the cinema and later maybe would kiss her, just a short kiss. Like the ones he had given her. And a few dates later maybe a real kiss. And much later maybe more. How he wouldn't rush things with her. How it would be meaningful and important. And how much he hoped for her that it would be like this, at least for her. That she'd meet a decent guy who would treat her like she meant the world to him.

And he remembered how that nightly walk with her was somehow what made the whole encounter bearable. The rest...he just locked the rest away. Cause thinking about it made him urge to vomit.

But this had been his choice.

 

 

And that man, Dar was his name, had sticked to his word. Hill school, college, military training, and more and more missions, some like the first one, some different. After his training never again a mission like the first one. But other stuff.

 

 

Sometimes he met that blonde fifteen year old girl in his dreams and walked down Nathan Road with her and held her hand again. Those were good nights.

And when he opened a file at his temporary desk at Langley twenty years later, the one about the Brody-situation, how Dar had named it, it nearly knocked him over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being afraid you'll look like a coward is the worst reason for doing anything.  
> ― John Irving, The Cider House Rules
> 
> I carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: "Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I'll be ready."  
> \- Charles Bukowski


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endings 2-4 all start with this. The following three chapters explore further.

"No. That's not fair. You're right."

She looked at him, again with that piercing glance.

"Why do you ask all this? We were talking about what brought you here."

"Yeah...right...it's about...well, I probably shouldn't tell you anyway."

"But you'd like too?"

"Yes."

"Well then why don't you give it a try?"

"It's about...people having...people making..." God, he himself didn't even habe words and it felt like he was just realizing now what he was about to do.

He saw her flushing which he found utterly enthralling. So she understood. And she was a brave girl, albeit her dad probably would tell her just to get up and run at least a mile away when a near stranger started talking to her about sex at the middle of the night on an empty dim-lit road.

"Carrie? I'd really like to tell you and I promise it's not too bad. But we can talk about something else if you don't want this."

"It's not because I'm only fifteen that I don't know things. I mean, I...my sister and her boyfriend...yeah, well, you probably know how it goes. So go ahead, I can handle."

She straightened her back and looked at him, kind of challenging him.

"So that man, he works for the CIA. And here in Hong Kong is a person who is their target in an operation. A woman. She works where I met your father today. He wants to make her cooperate. With photos."

God, that was so hard. Talking about it kind of made him realize for the first time how gros it was. Until now he'd prefered not to think about it in detail. _Just go there and get over with it. Focus on the afterwards._

And now he sat here with the most perfect girl he'd ever met, had spent half the night with her talking and it had felt good, much better than anything before, and he was about to tell her how he'd use it to...pay. _Yes, pay. Fuck._

"What kind of photos?"

He didn't answer. And saw how it registered with her. She'd be appalled soon, just a few seconds more.

"Oh. You mean photos with you and that woman?"

_There. Now she'd get up and go. Stupid I even told her._

"Photos while you...uh, I see."

Her cheeks were very pink now. But credit where it's due, her voice was still as nice before and she was still looking at him.

"Listen, I...I shouldn't have told you. Can we just forget that? It's no big deal and..."

"Do you really want to do this?" That question was a surprise.

"No. It's not that I want it. But...I can do it. It's just this...and then everything else will be better."

"Cause...I mean, obviously I don't know...and won't...because everybody knows now I'm crazy but according to my sister it is a big deal. She and her boyfriend planned it for a long time."

"Does your Dad know that? How old is she?"

"Seventeen. They started dating when she was fifteen. He's three years older. My Dad said not before she's sixteen."

"You talk about stuff like that with your Dad?"

"Well, she does. I don't. I mean I'm not...My Dad's pretty cool about it. He said, it happens anyway so he'd rather have her have it with a decent guy he knows and at home as in a parking lot. But...", she giggled, "not when he's at home. Maggie and Bill are lucky that he goes to every game when the Orioles play in Baltimore. He said he can't listen to his daughter having sex. Maggie nearly killed him because she was so embarrassed. But even worse, he asked Bill for an HIV test. And made him buy and show a box of condoms. Maggie thought Bill would bail on her because she has the most embarrassing Dad in history."

"That's...I didn't know Dads are like this."

"I think, it's just him. Maggie said her friends parents are worse, her best friend is not allowed to go on dates at all. And one other friend has always to meet her boyfriend in her parents' living room. So that's parking lot then instead, Maggie said."

"And Maggie and her boyfriend?"

"Yeah...well, if Dad goes to see the Orioles I go to the library. I'm not listening."

"No, sure."

"But...", her voice was barely audible now, "Maggie said, it's good if it's the right person."

"Yeah, think so."

"You know? I mean, you..." She really wanted to know, she'd only twice talked with Maggie about it and she knew some of the girls at school talked a lot about it but of course not with Crazy Carrie. And with him...it was okay, not too embarrassing to talk about it. Which was strange. But he had a way to make her feel good.

He thought about her question. It should mean something. A lot, in fact. But somehow he'd never been with someone who'd been that important. Although it was always great. But how could he tell her that?

He briefly thought about what she'd told him. About he himself being that guy living down the road and asking her out. To the movies. That's what those suburban kids did, didn't they? Not just 'let's meet in the laundry room'. So maybe that guy had a driving licence and a car, or his dad's car. And how he'd take her to see a movie. He could hold her hand or hold her in his arm. He was sure she'd smell great. Maybe she'd put a hand on his knee. And back home he could walk her to her door. They would talk about the film on the way back. Or her attempts to write Arabic. Or a book. And before she'd go back inside he'd bend down and kiss her. Just a good night kiss. He was sure she'd feel great. Soft and sweet. He'd be happy about it all night. And then he'd call her the next day and ask her, dunno, maybe if she wanted to meet him at the park for a walk. Or was next day too soon? Maybe a few days later? But what if he wouldn't wanna wait until a few days later? Or would she call? Anyway, he'd call her and take her for a walk. Or icecream. Or both. And next weekend another movie. Cinema was great, he assumed, because one already was close to each other and it was dark. So he would place a hand on her knee or hold her hand and later he'd kiss her again. A real kiss this time. He hoped she'd like it. And like him. And then he'd see her a few afternoons every week, or maybe at the library, but it would be different then, knowing how she felt and tasted. And he wouldn't mind her Dad's precautions, and wouldn't mind missing all Orioles games then because that was when her Dad wasn't at home. He'd wait until she'd feel okay with it but even if it would just be lying next to her and holding and kissing her...But if she'd feel ready...then...god, how much he wished to be that guy.

But he wasn't that guy.

He'd lost himself in that daydream and saw her staring at him.

"Huh...yes, I have."

She was silent now and he felt like he should say something. But what?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 2 - still sad but slightly hopeful

"So...this woman, how'd that work?"

"You sure you wanna know?"

"If you wanna tell."

He looked at her and then back to the nightly dark see.

"She likes western men. A lot. That's what I was told, at least. But I look older as I am. And that's not allowed here. I mean, not looking older, but having sex with underage." He spike fast and just wanted to be done with it. "So there will someone following us, making photos and then they can use those photos. Imprisonment would be five years for her, so I guess that's a good argument."

"A honey trap."

"A what?"

"A honey trap. That's what it's called. John Le Carré. He wrotes spy novels. That word is his creation. It's even in the Oxford English Dictionary now. Luring someone into a uncomfortable position by using..."

"Sex."

She inhaled sharply. "Yes. I thought that's just a plot for books. Do you want that?"

 

"Listen, I...that man said I could start over new. And I'd really like that. Not the foster home anymore but a new school where nobody knows what happened before."

She understood, she really understood. A new school would be great.

"It is one day, or less in fact, and what I get for it can change everything. It's...I really have been one of the bad guys, Carrie. And that foster home, it's not like John Irving, no princes of Maine."

"You read that too?"

"Yes."

"I was just thinking. I mean, if you don't want that, it'll surely be enough if those photos look like it, but without actually...I mean, you'd still need to pretend and get...close...but you wouldn't need to...", her voice broke off.

"What?"

"Do it all.

"I don't get it, I guess."

"It's a question of timing. They just need those photos. Compromising enough photos. Once they have them, you can stop and vanish. Who's going to make the photos?"

"They gave me a number to call as soon as I made contact. They'll sent someone then", he said slowly, his mind busy with what she had suggested.

"You could call before and request some planning, say what you're willing to do and what not. Ask what those photos need to have."

She fell silent and he contemplated what she'd said. Actually, that was pretty fucking smart. Like a spy novel. And it felt less wrong. Still wrong. But less. And he still could do other stuff afterwards. Go back to school. Be a better person.

"You're smart, Carrie, really smart."

"Nah, just read a lot of spy novels. It's not like James Bond, with Q providing all those great devices, and then a car gets driven into mash and a lot of shooting. It's gathering information, talking to people, a lot of talking, connecting information and thoughtful planning."

"You think about that a lot? Why?"

She blushed which was again very cute.

"Promise not to laugh?"

"Promise."

"I thought I could do something like this. Later when I'm grown up. Going to law school and then maybe working for the government. Or at the district attorney's office. Or something like that. I have a very good memory, it's part of...what I have...my brain's faster in processing."

"I'm sure you'll be great." And that was the truth, he was sure, because she already was great. The smartest person he'd ever met.

"But Carrie? About your...condition...listen, I don't know a lot about that. But I think you're so much more. I...I think...you're great the way you are."

He looked at her to see how she'd receive his words. Her mouth showed a tiny smile and her eyes were shining. That Danny really was a moron.

"C'mon. I'll bring you back."

_Why can't he live in my street and ask me for a date? He wouldn't be mean the next day and I really liked it when he took my hand._

They both got up and while he still contemplated whether he could kiss her, he suddenly felt her hand sneaking in his. She didn't look at him but turned half around, ready to climb the steps, already two steps ahead of him. He gently pulled her hand to make her stop and closed towards her by climbing on step. He put his free hand on her shoulder and looked down to her.  
He knew she knew when she looked straight into his eyes, and her eyes were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, that brief moment before he kissed her. It was a careful kiss, he didn't want to scare her but after a moment felt confident enough to pull her bit closer and to let his hand run down her back. He broke the kiss but held her in that embrace and moved his mouth just above her ear.

"Feels good?"

She nodded, so he bent down and did it again, a bit bit more pressure this time, his arm still wound round her back. He let go of her hand and put his left hand to the back of her nape, his fingers in her hair, to support and hold her as he added a bit more pressure.

_See, Carrie, you don't have to go to some suburban malls with some jerk from your street to get your first kiss, you deserve much better._

He let go of her but took her hand again.

"Let's go back now. It's really late."

It was just a few minutes to the hotel where he walked her to the back door. The napkin was still there.

He opened the door for her and let go of her hand, happy when she hesitated for a moment. So he let go of the door knob and took her face in his hands.

"Thank you for helping me, master spy."

She smiled and took one of his hands to kiss his palm.

"Keep yourself out of trouble, Quinn Foley. Each spy needs someone to have his back."

And then she tiptoed, her mouth briefly touched his and then she was gone.

Later he often thought how this fifteen year old girl had prevented him from making a life changing mistake. The whole encounter still had been gros and as soon he himself was in the position to be responsible for recruiting and running agents he never allowed any kind of involvement of persons underage, no matter what. Because not everybody could hope to meet a blonde saviour in a foreign city.

He had accomplished that first mission without loosing too much of his soul. Dar had laughed loud when he had learnt how he'd played the paymaster and used his back up who had been assigned to make the photos for help. In fact, he'd been impressed, he had told him much later. A 17 year old planning and running an operation on foreign soil. And as not many people had ever impressed Dar Adal he'd personally paid for his boarding school and college.

Quinn sometimes hoped he might meet Carrie somewhere in Washington during his brief stays there, maybe she was really working with the government. He hadn't even asked for her surname back then. And as Quinn Foley's identy had been erased after Hong Kong there was no way how she could have find him. But he'd really like to know if she had made her way, that blonde force of nature. 

He found out, about twenty years later, when opening the files about the Brody-affair.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 3 - hopeful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your life is your life  
> don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.  
> be on the watch.  
> there are ways out.  
> there is a light somewhere.  
> it may not be much light but  
> it beats the darkness.  
> be on the watch.  
> the gods will offer you chances.  
> know them.  
> take them.  
> you can’t beat death but  
> you can beat death in life, sometimes.  
> and the more often you learn to do it,  
> the more light there will be.  
> your life is your life.  
> know it while you have it.  
> you are marvelous  
> the gods wait to delight  
> in you.
> 
>  
> 
> \- Charles Bukowski

 

"So...this woman, how'd that work?"

"You sure you wanna know?"

She inhaled. "If you wanna tell."

He looked at her and then back to the nightly dark sea, taking a deep breath.

"She likes western men. A lot. That's what I was told, at least. But I look older as I am. And that's not allowed here. I mean, not looking older, but having sex with underage." He spoke fast and just wanted to be done with it. "So there will someone following us, making photos and then they can use those photos. Imprisonment would be five years for her, so I guess that's a good argument."

"And you think that's right?"

"I don't really care. Probably not. It's for others to decide that."

"I'm not talking about that woman."

"Right. Well then, let's just go back."

He was about to get up when he suddenly felt her hand on his arm, just for a fraction of a second before she pulled it back again. But that brief moment made him think she might care instead of judge, and he wasn't really used to that, and holding her hand had felt so good and somehow with her he could talk. And it was not that he felt too positive about his assignment. In fact he felt pretty awkward about it.

"And how do you feel about it?"

_Like she read my thoughts...Right now? Like it's been the worst idea I ever had. But it seemed a great idea when he suggested it. Easy, compared to what probably a judge would say. But what else is left for me to start over new?_

"Listen, I...that man said I could get a fresh start. And I'd really like that. Not the foster home anymore but a new school where nobody knows what happened before."

She understood, she really understood. A new school would sometimes be great. Just that she was pretty sure that problems didn't just vanish because one moves elsewhere. They kept coming back until they are adressed and solved.

"It is one day, or much less in fact, it doesn't take that long to...", he stopped when he saw her blushing and changed to another thought, "... and what I get for it can change everything. It's...I really have been one of the bad guys, Carrie. That's my last chance."

He had sitten down next to her again while he was talking but with a few inches of space between them which made her strangely sad. She hadn't intended to annoy him.

"I mean, obviously it's your choice, I just thought..."

"What? Just say it's gros. I'm gros. Just say so." He had moved away a bit more and crossed his arms across his chest, staring at her. It had been wrong to tell her, wrong to trust her. That man had been right, this work was nothing to talk about. Not with anybody. And certainly not with a girl.

"I just thought...maybe you don't wanna do it? It didn't feel like you were that kind of guy. After what you said...about Danny. And you're not gros. I just think it wasn't right of that man to request that from you. For what it's worth, I thought, you are...likeable", and with that she got up, getting ready to leave, "Good night. I know the way. I'll go alone."

_I'll never see her again, if she leaves now. I'll go back to Chungkin Mansions, will get it done or not and then there will be no way back to the before. I know it's not right. Why should they look for someone like me if it were right? They chose me because it's wrong. That's what I'm good enough for. For doing wrong gros things. That's what that man saw in me. And if I fail he certainly won't care. He's just using me._

She was about a hundred yards away when he reached her.

"I...I'm sorry. Could you...stay a bit longer? I...I'd like that. Please."

And something in his voice made her stop and look at him. Again it was the sadness in his eyes that reached her and made her consider to turn and sit back down again.

He was closer again when they sat back on the stairs and his body wasn't as tense anymore.

With a deep breath he picked up their conversation again.

"What do you really think about it? I'll listen until your finished, this time, ok?"

She pondered her thoughts for a moment, searching for words and sorting it out.

"I understand how you wanna start over new. I'd sometimes like that too. A school where nobody knows me. But I guess there is no running away from who I am. Sooner or later there'll be again someone who finds out and maybe then it'll get just worse. And for what you told me: I think that man was wrong to bring you here and ask you to do that. He's using you. I don't think it's the right thing to do. I think you should figure it out with the police, maybe get grounded for it, maybe not..."

"This time for sure."

"Maybe. You don't know that. And if yes, maybe you had it coming. So accept to be responsible for the consequences and start over then. But not by...doing what they asked you. I don't think it's right. I mean if it's illegal, and it feels very wrong, why don't they let her get caught and punished? They allow her to hurt kids."

"I'm no kid any more."

"No. But maybe the next one? You think now you can handle. But is it really what you wanna do?"

There was no harm in admitting it to her, was it?

"It's just...I don't want the live I have now. I'm always just a foster kid. A burden for society. My own parents can't stand seeing me. They never visit. When people hear where I'm from they are put off before I even said a word. I'm wrong whatever I do. I missed my chances to get education. So it's always gonna be like this. Kids bullying other kids. Either you bully or they bully you. And some of the people working there...are just not good people...so it's bad, Carrie, really bad. And if this is my last chance... I thought it might be easy." He sounded desperate and hopeless and she was suddenly very sad for him.

"And what d'you think now?"

"Dunno. It's not that I have many choices. You haven't met that man."

"Did he threaten you?"

"No...not really...but...he wasn't exactly the type to mess around with."

"They can't force you to do illegal stuff. You have a planeticket and a passport?"

"Yeah..."

"So, you still could fly back, report back to police and see what happens then. I'm sure that man won't show up again. Or you call that contact and say you leave. And I'm pretty sure he might not wanna want you to tell the police what he asked you to do."

"You're suggesting I threaten him?"

"No. Just parting on good terms. Call that contact once you are back in the US. Maybe you can change the date of your flight. And then you go to your home and ask one of the people there to go with you to the police. They have to do that. You shouldn't be alone there."

"It'll be even worse, this time, because I left out of custody without notice. Back in Baltimore."

"Maybe it's time to figure it out and be responsible for what you did. That's what my dad always says. I hate it."

Despite himself he had to chuckle.

"I absolutely understand that. I hate it too", but then more serious, "So you think I should go back?"

"Only you can decide that. But just so you know, there are options. People at your foster home should know about these. There are schools...", she hesitated and he finished the sentence for her "...kids like me?"

"No. Yeah. I mean, schools where they help you to get around certain issues. Smaller classes. Other kids who missed classes. Even when you get to stay in arrest for a while you could re-start school there. And maybe you don't need go back to the foster home afterwards. In my school are two kids living in a homegroup with other kids and a social worker."

"Are you friends with them? Do you ever talk with them?"

"No, but..."

"See? They're the outcasts."

"No. They have friends. It's just...me...I don't have friends. Not like this at least. Of course I do after school activities and stuff, it's not like I am a...creep...but not with hanging out or meeting at home. It's...just not me...it was always like this. I'm just not good with other people."

That wasn't true, he thought. She was the greatest girl he'd ever met. And he briefly thought about how it could be. If he were one of those kids in her school. How he'd maybe meet her in the library, both doing their loners' language training, avoiding being with other kids. Maybe talking about a book or homework first. Maybe he would start to walk home into her direction to see her longer. And they'd talk. Every day a bit longer. And then he would ask her to meet during the weekend, maybe at the local library or for a bike ride. Or going to see a movie. Holding her hand had made his stomache feel like a box of jumping crackers all going off at the same time. Putting an arm around her or even kissing her must be...special. And then he'd see her every day. She was the smartest and nicest person he'd ever met. His granny had always said she'd known right away when she'd met his grandfather before the war. He hadn't thought of her for a long time. She'd be disappointed if she knew why he was here. Maybe Carrie's dad was right, maybe it was time to take the blame for all these things he'd done.

"Well...", her voice pulled him out of his musings, "...and to go back to where we started: I think you misjudged. It shouldn't be like that. It should have meaning."

It was a simple truth and he wondered how he had managed to miss it before.

"You're right. It should."

"So?"

"I...I guess, I have a lot to think about now. And I will think about it. I promise. May I walk you back now?"

She nodded and got up.

"When's your flight due?"

"We'll leave for the airport at five. It's to Seattle first and then we'll change for D.C."

"That's where you live? Washington D.C.?"

"Close. Arlington, Virginia."

That was not far from Baltimore. Really not far. About maybe an hour. He'd driven to D.C. one night to see the Lincoln Memorial. And there were busses to D.C. Maybe it was time to get used to use the bus instead of borrowing cars.

Maybe. Maybe he should ask. Because if not now he'd never know.

She was climbing up the stairs to the path along the bank. It took him three long steps to catch up with her.

"I...I was wondering...I...I'm from Baltimore. That's not...that far. I mean, you'd mind if I call you when I'm back?"

She looked surprised. But not reluctant, just surprised. And then she smiled. Shy and beautiful.

"I think I'd like that."

And with that he felt he could take her hand again, small and warm.

But she wasn't done yet.

"You can call me. But...we can only meet if you...I mean if you don't...we still could be friends then. You still could call me. But..."

There is was again, that box of firecrackers. Apparently she was the braver one of the two of them, he thought, while cupping her cheek and bending down, hoping to do the right thing. But it felt right.

She was expecting him, turning her head slightly upwards, and met him halfway, while her hand squeezed his. His other hand went from her cheek at the back of her nape, supporting her as he kissed her, soft and gentle.

Her mouth was soft and she tasted sweet and for the first time in ages he felt like being exactly where he should be in that very moment.

 

 _This was how it should be._ Her other hand went around his waist and he felt it on his back below his shoulder when he broke the kiss.

"Hey. You okay with that?"

Again that shy smile.

"One more? Because I'd really like that."

She nodded. This time he pulled her a bit closer, and when he kissed her he gently tipped against her lower lip with his tongue. Her hand clenched around his and he hoped it would be exactly like this when he saw her again.

When they parted he smiled down at her and knew he'd make his decision.

"C'mon. I'll bring you back."

He kissed her once more before they turned around the last corner into Lockhart Road, trying to memorize how she felt, this time holding her in an embrace with both his arms. She was perfect.

Back at the hotel's backdoor she took the napkin with her name in mandarin brushstrokes and the pen out of purse, carefully teared the napkin in two halfs and jotted her name, adress and phonenumber down.

"I don't know when I'll be allowed to make a call. It's one of the privileges they take away for bad behaviour", he warned her, "but I promise to call as soon as I can, okay? Don't think I changed my mind, it just might take some time before they let me."

"That's okay. I...I'll wait for your call. I could...if you want that...and if it's allowed...I could come and visit you."

He was surprised and lost for words for a moment and then felt a wave of warmth washing through his core.

"It might take a while until I'm allowed to get a visitor. But I'd like that. A lot."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ending 4 - fuck canon and make it all better, right from the very beginning.
> 
> You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.  
> ― Charles Bukowski, Women

 

"So...this woman, how'd that work?"

"You sure you wanna know?"

She inhaled. "If you wanna tell."

He looked at her and then back to the nightly dark sea, taking a deep breath.

"She likes western men. A lot. That's what I was told, at least. But I look older as I am. And that's not allowed here. I mean, not looking older, but having sex with an underage." He spoke fast and just wanted to be done with it. "So there will someone following us, making photos and then they can use those photos. Imprisonment would be five years for her, so I guess that's a good argument."

"And how do you feel about that?"

That was a strange question. Or a good one. And he hadn't really thought about it yet. Just today when he had made his first attempt to contact that woman it had suddenly felt like a not so great idea. But it was a small price compared to getting another chance to start over new afterwards, wasn't it?

"Dunno. Just wanna get it done."

She didn't believe that. Or had she been so wrong. He had been nice. And gentle. And now he was telling he'd...no. She just didn't buy it.

"Why?"

Another strange question. He wasn't used to having to explain himself. It's not that there were many people taking an interest in him and his thoughts these days. But the answer to that one was easy. And he wanted her to understand him. That he was not just some asshole messing around with whoever came round the corner but that he had reasons, good reasons. She made him want to be likeable. Also he knew she was out of his league. She was fucking smart. Learning Arabic and knowing all that stuff about politics and religions. Interesting stuff. And she was so beautiful.

And the way she looked at him made him feel very uncomfortable, very intense. She wouldn't buy any kind of false, lame explanation.

"That man said I don't have to go back to the foster home. I won't get arrested. I'll get a clean file, a fresh start. He'll pay for a good school. A boarding school. Like for rich kids. Nobody will ever know where I'm from and what I did before."

"You think that works?"

"Of course that works. I won't tell anybody."

"I don't think that works. There will always be someone finding out. Making it difficult for you. And even if not. Would you like to live a life with nobody really knowing you? I mean, I get it, I often think about changing school. But, who knows if it will not just get worse? Or how it will feel to spend my days with being careful so nobody finds out about my crazy stuff? Right now, they know, they made fun of it and now they leave me be. At least I don't have to pretend to be anybody I am not."

"That's different. I mean, you are more than just your illness. People like you. Care for you. I'm just a nuisance. A foster kid. A criminal foster kid. One of those your dad would get nightmares about if he knew you were hanging out with me."

"You don't know my dad. He's different. And that man...dunno...but isn't that kind of blackmail? He'll always know what you did. And he pays for you. That'll make you dependent. For years. Whenever he wants you to do something, you have to do it. And even if he doesn't stick with his promises, there's nothing you can do about it. Maybe he's not CIA but...something like the mafia. How do you know that?"

It was not that he hadn't felt those gnawing doubts and fears over the last days. He had just preferred not to think about it too much. So he said nothing. Which made it only worse because she went on talking.

"Did you talk with anybody about it? People will look for you. Search you. If it's CIA, why would they engage in such illegal...stuff? I mean, you said it's illegal...and it's gros and..."

"I didn't tell you just so you say I'm gros." He'd gotten up and loomed in front of her and suddenly she was afraid. What had she been thinking? She didn't even know him. And it was hours before her Dad or Maggie would know she was missing. Stupid girl.

"You know what? I'll just go back. I know the way."

She got up slowly and went up the stairs backwards, keeping her eyes on him. And then it hit him, she was afraid of him. He had scared her. How the fuck had he managed that?

"Carrie. I'm sorry. I didn't want to...please stay. Please. You don't need to be afraid."

"It's fine. I'll just go back."

"Then let me at least walk with you. You shouldn't walk around alone at night. I'm...I'm really sorry." That was true. He was sorry. And sad. Because he had enjoyed being with her. It had been easy and had felt right until he had ruined it.

They were on top of the stairs now, she hadn't answer to his plea to be allowed to walk with her.

"I didn't say you're gros. And that's not what I meant. I said what he asked you to do is gros. That's a difference." She spoke without looking at him.

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I think so."

He took a deep breath, thinking how much he really wished they could go back to the fun conversations they had had earlier that night.

"Carrie. It's just...I mean I really don't know what to do. It seemed like a way out." He surprised himself by saying that. "I just...I'm one of the bad guys...and there's not much left what I can do. And I don't wanna go to prison. That's gonna be worse. And here that's just one day."

His voice was desperate and that was what made her sit back down on the top of the stairs.

"You don't have to do this. There must be other ways. Kids are not just send to prison for borrowing cars. There are other measurements, I'm sure."

"I don't see any. It...It's just...I don't want the life I have now. I'm always just a foster kid. A burden for society. My own parents can't stand seeing me. They never visit. When people hear where I'm from they are put off before I even said a word. I'm wrong whatever I do. I missed my chances to get education. So it's always gonna be like this. Kids bullying other kids. Either you bully or they bully you. And some of the people working there...are just not good people...so it's bad, Carrie, really bad. And if this is my last chance... I thought it might be easy."

He sounded desperate and hopeless and she was suddenly very sad for him.

She realized that the whole matter was beyond what she could solve. But she wanted to help and not just to walk away.

"You should talk to an adult. You really should. I mean, running away from police, flying to a foreign country, that probably means you're in trouble anyway."

"There's nobody."

"We should go and wake my Dad. He's a teacher. He knows stuff like this. There a two boys in his class who live in a homegroup with other kids."

"No. We're not waking your Dad."

"Quinn. This just does not feel right. You should talk to someone. Someone should help you. My Dad wouldn't mind."

The thing was, suddenly he thought it might indeed feel good not to be alone in this and to talk with someone. It had felt good with her. And her Dad had been nice. Not like other adults.

"I don't know..."

"But I know. Let's go. So there's still some time before we need to leave to the airport."

She was up on her feet and determined to go but he hesitated. Telling her indeed had made him realize what subconciously had been there before: It wasn't right. And he didn't wanna do it. But how to go back from there?

"You coming? I really think my Dad could help us...you."

And it was the tiny 'us' which melted him. And the way how she looked at him from the top of the stairs, head tilted a bit sidewards, her eyes straight on his face.

"Yeah...but could you wait just a second? I...really didn't wanna scare you. And I'm sorry if I did. I...liked being with you tonight." He had taken the two steps which  
seperated them and stood next to her.

"I...me too." She smiled another one of those shy smiles which made him feel like they were really about him. Which was a great feeling.

So when they walked back he felt confident to take her hand again, without any particular reason this time, it was neither crowded nor loud, it just felt good. Exciting. Especially when she squeezed his hand before they went around the last corner. He used his thumb to carefully stroke across her knuckles and simultanously their steps got a bit slower.

He thought about kissing her but it felt odd after what he'd just confessed to her. And then the moment was gone they were around that last corner, approaching the hotel's front entrance this time.

"You'll wait in the lobby? I go and get my Dad."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes. This is nothing you and I can handle. You?"

"If you say so..."

He felt awkward, suddenly wishing he could go all the way back to that moment four days ago, when that man had entered the interrogation room at the police station. And just say 'No, thank you, Sir'.

He had stopped outside of the hotel, still a few yards away from the door.

"Hey. You'll still be here when I come back, will you?" Again he felt that small hand squeezing his. "Want me to be around when you talk to my Dad? Or shall I wait upstairs?"

He wondered how one person alone could be so caring and gentle and suddenly he choked on words.

So he let go of her hand and pulled her with an arm around her shoulder into a quick embrace, wondering where that came from. She was soft and light like a feather. She was the best thing which had ever happened to him.

"I'd like you to be there. I'll wait. Promise."

Frank and Carrie were back after a couple of minutes, Frank had apparently quickly changed into shorts and a shirt, his short grey hair standing unruly at ends. Quinn expected some kind of anger blow out, it was about 2 am and his daughter had just confessed she'd been out running around with a stranger half the night.

But to his huge surprise Frank indicated him to sit down, studying his face thouroughly when they were seated at a niché table with two benches. Carrie squeezed herself next to him and he was extremely grateful for her support.

  
"Carrie. I think you can go to bed now."

She inhaled and he felt bad. "No, Dad. Quinn asked me to be here. Please."

Quinn was amazed by her father's and her friendly tone, no yelling or threatening, just like a friendly conversation about the weather.

"Fine. Stay. We'll talk about this later anyway."

Of course she'd be in trouble for running away. And still she'd insisted on waking up her Dad.

"Sir. This was my fault. It was my idea. I shouldn't have asked her. I am to blame for this."

Frank sighed and turned his gaze onto him.

"Well, I have a sweet spot for young chivalry, and I'll give you credit for that, but Carrie knew perfectly well that this was not okay. But this is not what she brought me down for, I guess. She said you're in trouble and need help. So, young friend, spit it out, let me hear your story. And it's still not 'Sir' but 'Frank', at least you brought her back."

He started to tell what he'd told Carrie earlier, who he was and what had brought him to Hong Kong, feeling very uncomfortable when he came to the part to tell Frank what his supposed task with the paymaster was. His hands laid on the table, he tried to stop the nervous tapping of his fingers.

He was halfway through when Frank exploded.

"Those government fuckers. That's prostitution. Abuse. Child trafficking. How could they?! I always knew they are all hypocrites but that? It's a scandal. It's...I should call the Washington Times. I should...", he was yelling now and Carrie exhaled exhausted and tapped her fingers on the table top in front of her father.

"Dad...please...let him finish."

"There's more? Can it get worse?"

"No. But it's not exactly what you wanna share with each receptionist over there."

"Right. Sorry", he inhaled deeply to calm himself down and turned back to Quinn. "So, what else?"

So Quinn told him about his long row of misdeeds, smaller and bigger ones, the fosterhomes, schools or more to the point his continued absence from those and how he felt like whatever he did and tried there was just no place for someone like him. And how he had thought this could be a way out. He was honest, felt raw and naked, had to fight tears at one point and felt embarrassed for it, but the elder man reached over the table and patted his hand.

"That's okay. No need to feel bad about it. Sometimes one needs a good cry. Carrie and I know this. None of this was your fault. It's one of the biggest crimes of human mankind how our society treats the weakest."

And then he went for a bathroom break, giving Carrie a nod to do the same. As much as Quinn appreciated the gesture he wished she had stayed. But she was back quickly and brought him a cold towel which he gratefully took to wipe over his face and neck. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand, just in time before her Dad was back.

Frank Mathieson had always held a profound aversion against all kind of public authorities and even with all his friends saying he had a thing for conspirancy theories - this here was beyond what he himself would have been able to imagine. And exactly this was why he was willing to believe every single word. He felt for that strange boy, wondered why it had taken Carrie to inquire what was wrong. He himself had noticed the young one's strange edginess and behaviour but hadn't taken the time to inquire. But Carrie had. He had noticed the chemistry between the boy and his younger daughter over dinner, of course he had. But as he hadn't expected to see him ever again he had just leant back and decided not to pay attention, she deserved some fun after that cruel encounter with that moron from down the road. But that was Carrie, whole-hearted, fierce, uncompromising, willing to go great length for those few who she held in her heart. He couldn't help it but was proud. And he expected to see mucg more of Quinn Foley in the near future. God help us, Carrie lost her heart.

"Well, first of all, it was the right thing to wake me up. You came to ask for help for someone in need even while knowing you'd bring yourself in trouble. And you trusted me. Both makes me proud of my girl. So let's just say we forgot about your nightly escape, we have bigger fishes to fry. Which brings us to you." He turned his warm eyes on Quinn again. "Do you have a passport and a plane ticket?"

"Two passports actually."

"Why's that?"

"He said, I might need it."

"Fuck, I can't believe it. That man watched to many James Bond movies, I guess. Government agency equipping kids with fake passports. Glorious republican government. Anyway...use your real passport. I don't have much of a plan. But there's nothing I can do from here. So I'd say you fly back with us and then I'll go with you to Baltimore."

"Thank you, si...Frank."

"And about your long list of misdeeds: I'm not saying you were right to do so. But you're not the first youngster taking some wrong turns. There always second and third chances for someone who's willing to work hard on himself. We'll figure it out, huh? So, Carrie, I want you and Maggie to take a cab to the airport now. I'll go with our friend to get his stuff and change his ticket and we'll meet you at the airport. If we're not there in time, don't wait but take the scheduled flight."

And that's what they did.

The following hours passed blurry. Quinn half feared someone would hinder him from leaving the cheap hotel or stop him at the airport but none of that happened. They were even able to change his ticket without problems.

They met the girls at the gate and his stomache turned over when he saw Carrie and she smiled.

While they were waiting to board the plane Maggie had smiled at him and changed his boarding pass against hers, whispering 'Wanna sit with Carrie?'

They took off at the scheduled time of 11 am and for the first time in five days he felt he could lean back and relax, just for a few hours. Regardless of the early asian time the flight itself was a nightflight, a few hours into the flight - they had eaten and then he and Carrie had played chess - and it was dark outside and the window blinds got closed. Maggie and Frank nestled into their seats a row in front of him and Carrie and dozed off soon.

Carrie looked tired too, he had kept her awake all night.

"Let's finish that round later. You should catch up some sleep."

"You too."

"Can't."

"You ok?"

He smiled a lopsided smile which made her feel warm and fuzzy.

"Just a lot to think about."

"What?"

"What's gonna happen next. And...", and suddenly it was easy and the right moment, "...you."

And he didn't have to think about it, he just did it and was sure of it. Her left hand was resting on the armrest and he covered it with his hand and used the other hand to pull her closer. His hand cupped her cheek and he took a moment to look into her eyes, searching and founding the same longing he felt, and then he bent forward and touched her lips with his. It was a shy and gentle kiss, he wanted it to be right for her, but when she didn't pull away he added a bit more pressure, gently exploring her lips with his, while caressing her hand with his. She tasted sweet and her lips were soft.

He broke the kiss to look at her, still holding her hand.

"I wanted to do that all night."

She smiled and her cheeks had a faint pink flush.

He folded the armrest away and wrapped her up in his right arm, kissing her again, still careful but lingering, softly exploring her lips with his, his left hand coming around to her shoulder and gently caressing her neck.

_This is how it should feel. Not Danny Hedges trying to force his tongue into my mouth without warning._

But then she stopped thinking about Danny Hedges because this felt too good. He held her in a close embrace and suddenly it didn't matter that her father and her sister were sleeping just a row in front of them. She sighed when she felt his tongue gently tracing her lips and carefully tipped her own tongue against his through her parted lips. After a few moments they both had to come up for air and he held her gaze as if checking if she still was okay.

She smiled. She was okay. More than okay actually.

He kissed her once more, just a brief, reassurring one this time and pulled her into his side then where she leant with her head against his chest.

"I shouldn't...what if my dad wakes up?"

"I'll stay awake. You sleep. And the second he stirs I'll put you back in your seat, okay? Want a blanket?"

And so it happened that she fell asleep snuggled up in his arm, feeling better than in ages. He spent the following hours trying to memorize how she felt and looked like, assuming it might probably take a while before he'd be allowed to see her again.

When Frank started to stir he quickly and gently put her back into her seat, pretending to be asleep himself when Frank got up to use the toilet.

It was the last moment of privacy they had and so he gently caressed her cheek and kissed her forehead, seeing her smiling in her sleep. Finally he himself managed to rest for an hour or two. Their flight from Seattle was a day flight, just a bit less then five hours and the closer they came towards DC the more he felt the fear about what laid ahead of him.

As it was nearly midnight local time when they arrived at the Mathison's house, Frank had decided to call it a day and offered him to stay overnight in the guestroom so they'd drive to Baltimore early next morning.

Quinn stood awkwardly in the kitchen while the girls brought their luggage upstairs, feeling like the intruder he was.

"Maggie will just put some sheets on the bed. You didn't sleep much, did you?" Quinn gladly took the soda Frank offered him.

"A word between you and me. Please don't be offended. I'm not saying you can't see Carrie again. But I expect you to behave like a gentleman tonight, okay? And then we'll talk about that again when we've sorted your shit out, huh?"

What else could he do but nod, embarrassed both by the man's kindness and words.

That night his sleep was dreamless and deep.

They'd planned to leave by 8 am and the girls were still asleep when he came downstairs to the kitchen where Frank sat with the papers.

"Coffee's over there. Help yourself. Slept well?"

"Uhm."

"I called a friend of mine a few minutes ago. A lawyer. He'll help you in case you need one."

"Thank you. You're very kind."

"Thank Carrie. And now get your stuff, I'll meet you outside."

Quinn heard the the frontdoor's latch closing when he went upstairs to gather his few belongings, surprised to find Carrie sitting, fully dressed but wet hair, on the top step.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

"You gotta go, uhm?"

"Yeah."

She got up and kissed him very quickly on the corner of his mouth. He could tell that it had required some courage from her part. So he fished for her hand and raised it to his lips to place a kiss on her open palm.

"I don't know when I'll be allowed to make a call. It's one of the first privileges they take away for bad behaviour", he warned her, "but I promise to call as soon as I can, okay? Don't think I changed my mind, it just might take some time before they let me."

"I'm here. I'll wait. Good luck."

She walked down with him and stood on the veranda when he and her father left.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd really like to know which one you liked most. 
> 
>  
> 
> When I started writing I had planned to go for the second one. But then this discussion here 
> 
> http://carrie-quinn.livejournal.com/128079.html
> 
> started all kinds of thoughts and the story Dar gave us really messed me up. So I decided to write it away with Ending 3 and 4. So this AU and these particular endings won't lead to later canon events and I won't rewrite several seasons of HL. Others here do this and they do it great. 
> 
> But: I'll write two more chapters for what happens after ending 4, as the world needs more teenage C/Q.
> 
> And because I found the perfect Bukowski quote for our tortured fandom:
> 
> We don’t even ask happiness, just a little less pain.

**Author's Note:**

> You probably know that song. Replace Bangkok with Hong Kong and you get the picture.
> 
> One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble  
> Not much between despair and ecstasy  
> One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble  
> Can't be too careful with your company  
> I can feel the devil walking next to me
> 
> Edited: Another word on the timeline. The movie Frank likes (see chapter one) did only come out in 1994. I allowed myself that inaccuracy as I only use it as a minor plot-device.


End file.
